


accidental boyfriends

by ohmcgee



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, accidentally dating, dick grayson is a man child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the prompt: Dick Grayson/Adult!Damian Wayne, they're not dating. They're just going out to meals together, and holding hands a little, and making out a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	accidental boyfriends

**Author's Note:**

> Damian is 18

“Wait. You’ve never eaten at a diner?”

Damian turns his nose up at the idea. “Pennyworth does a satisfactory job of preparing my meals.”

“Don’t you ever get hungry out on patrols and stop by The Grease Pit for a quick bite?”

Damian wrinkles his nose. “One, that sounds like an abhorrent place to eat. Two, if you are doing the job right, Grayson, there is no time for a _bite to eat._ ”

“Whatever, put your shoes on, we’re going out to eat.”

Damian gives him a loathsome look. “At the ‘Grease Pit’?” 

Dick laughs. “Fine, I’ll take you to Wanda’s. It’s classier.”

 

***

“Come on, just try it.”

“It looks like something Killer Croc might have regurgitated.”

Dick frowns. “Don’t you dare put me off of my favorite chili cheese fries in Gotham, Damian. I would never forgive you.” Then he picks up a fry, limp and bending underneath the weight of cheese and chili, and shoves it in Damian’s mouth. 

“Ouch!” Dick pulls his finger away with bite marks. 

Damian makes seventeen different faces while he chews his food, finally swallowing, then pushes the basket back toward Dick. “I think I’ll stick with my chicken.”

“Lame,” Dick says, grabbing a handful of fries and stuffing them in his mouth, licking them clean, and making noises that Damian feels are really inappropriate for him to be making in public. Or at all. Ever.

“Grayson,” he says, kicking him underneath the table. “You are making a _scene._ ”

“Sorry,” Dick says, licking his lips obscenely, grinning wildly. “Been a while.”

“Here’s your milkshakes, cuties,” Dolores says, sitting two frosty glasses onto the table. 

“I did not order this,” Damian says, staring down at the cherry on top like it’s caused him personal harm. 

“I ordered it for you,” Dick grins. “They have the _best_ shakes.”

“That’s what you said about the chili cheese abomination.”

Dolores gasps.

“Don’t listen to him,” Dick says, patting her arm. “He’s a stranger to fun. I’m taking him under my wing, though. There’s hope yet.”

Dolores smiles and pats Dick on the top of his head. “Bless your heart.”

When Dick looks away from her and back at Damian, he’s pulled the glass up to him and has his lips wrapped around the straw, determinedly sucking the extra thick chocolate shake up it.

“Wow,” Dick says, his mouth doing that thing where it gets ahead of his brain. “That’s. You’ve got quite some suction going on there. Wait. I just mean, those are really thick shakes and you must -- wow.”

“Grayson, you’re stammering,” Damian says, dipping his finger into the whipped cream, then sucking it off. “You were not wrong about the shakes though. They are good. This place is acceptable. We can come here again.”

Dick doesn’t hear a word he says.

 

***

 

“Will you and Master Dick be dining out again this evening, Master Damian?” Alfred asks as he delivers the cucumber sandwiches Damian likes down to the cave for lunch. 

“What?” Damian asks, sounding slightly affronted. “I have no idea. Why would I know that?”

Alfred’s lips twitch in amusement. “I haven’t the faintest, sir.”

 

***

 

Damian must admit, it has become somewhat of a recurrent thing with them recently. Grayson has some sort of fixation with introducing him to new and unusual cuisine. He is always wanting to take him to different diners or restaurants. The man has a seriously unhealthy obsession with food. Damian has no idea how he stays so lean and fit, even with all the cardio and strength training required for their type of work, the amount of simple carbohydrates Grayson consumes is mind boggling. 

Tonight they go to a tiny, hole in the wall Mexican restaurant, if it can be called that, and Dick bets Damian he can eat more tacos than him. Damian would be an idiot to take that bet after the last few weeks, with his newfound knowledge that Grayson’s stomach is actually an enormous black hole, but he takes it anyway.

They both go home with stomach aches.

 

***

 

Damian isn’t sure how this happened.

“How did this happen,” he mutters, mostly to himself in the dark movie theater, popcorn falling onto his lap when Dick shoves his huge hand in the bucket. 

“Shh,” Dick shushes him, then grabs Damian’s hand with one of his greasy, butter covered ones and strokes the inside of Damian’s wrist while the alien on screen impregnates the female astronaut. He’s unclear on the details.

Damian stares down at Dick’s fingers around his wrist, says even quieter, _”How did this happen?”_

 

***

“Did you enjoy your film, sirs?” Alfred asks when they walk through the door later that night. 

“It was interesting,” Damian says, remembering only the parts where Dick’s thumb stroked his wrist, when he gripped his thigh when the alien burst from the woman’s womb, the way he reached for Damian’s hand as they walked out of the crowded theater together and Damian _let_ him. 

“The popcorn was amazing,” Grayson says, because _of course_ that’s what he would remember. 

 

***

“Damian,” Bruce says, his voice tight and clipped in a manner that usually means he has Very Bad News. Damian braces himself for the oncoming storm.

“Is it the Joker? Has he escaped again? I’ve told you father, we should just--”

“Are you and Dick...dating?”

Damian blinks. Then laughs. And laughs and laughs until his ribs are sore with it. “ _What?_ Are you under some sort of intoxication, father? Should I get Pennyworth?”

Bruce frowns, sets his jaw in that tight, I-mean-business way. “I’m serious. You two have been spending a lot of time together. I don’t--”

Damian stands up. This is _ridiculous._ “You spend a lot of time with Superman, are you dating an alien, father?”

Bruce chokes.

“Grayson and I occasionally dine together. Sometimes he forcefully drags my person to watch inane films with terrible acting and even more terrible stunt men. I don’t understand, if you are going to produce a film with ninja in it, could you not do your research on basic ninja training? I mean --”

Bruce fights back a smile. “I saw you on the couch. Together.”

Heat rises into Damian’s cheeks. “We were playing a video game. I. Fell asleep.”

“Uh huh.”

“Stop looking at me like that, it’s terrible.”

Bruce smirks. 

“I assure you, I am not dating Grayson. I think I would know it if I were.”

“Would you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Bruce says, shifting in his chair. _Oh god,_ Damian thinks, _That’s exactly what he did when Pennyworth made him speak with me about reproduction. Abort, abort._ “It’s. Well. With being Robin full-time, you haven’t had much experience. With dating.”

Damian wants to punch a hole in the floor, crawl in it, and die. 

“I’m leaving now.”

Bruce, at least, looks relieved. “Tell Dick I said hi.”

The last thing he sees is Damian’s middle finger before he slams the door.

 

***

 

“I’m going out to meet Babs for lunch,” Dick says, leaning against the batmobile where Damian is working under the hood. There’s grease smeared across the tip of his nose and when he drags his hand over his forehead, he leaves a streak there too. 

“Okay.” He says, staring at Grayson quizzically.

“Just thought I’d let you know. Wanna play that new game your Dad got you when I get back?”

Damian shrugs. “If I’m finished with what I’m doing here.”

“You will be,” Dick grins, then he leans in and before Damian can process what exactly is happening, Grayson’s mouth grazes his for the briefest of moments, then he’s gone. He touches his mouth, tasting sweat and motor oil. 

“Huh,” he says and leans back over the engine, which ends up being pointless, as he finds he can’t focus on anything the rest of the afternoon. 

 

***

Grayson’s draped half-on, half-off his bed, upside down, with a game controller in his hands. He’s playing a Call of Duty demo that hasn’t been released to the masses yet, perks of having connections in the tech industry, while Damian clicks away on his laptop, finishing up a bit of research for their latest case. 

That is, until Grayson puts one of his big paws on the lid, snapping it shut and crawls on the bed towards Damian until he’s straddling him, sitting back on his thighs.

“Bored,” he grins lazily and leans down, framing Damian’s face with those same huge hands, and kisses him slow and kind of sloppy and wet, until Damian puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back, but only an inch or so. 

“What,” he says, his breathing unsteady and erratic, pulse racing. “are you doing?”

“Making out with my boyfriend,” Dick purrs and sucks Damian’s bottom lip into his mouth. 

Damian _hates_ when his father is right. 

 

***

 

“Say a word and I will put you in an early grave, old man,” Damian says to Bruce’s raised eyebrows as he stalks into the kitchen. 

“I’m not sure turtlenecks are the best choice for the summer months, Master Damian,” Alfred says, smirking as he pours a cup of coffee. 

Damian slumps in a chair and scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “You will both suffer.”

“Morning!” Dick says cheerfully, bounding in the kitchen, catching a donut on his finger, then leans down and plants a big, wet kiss on Damian’s mouth, right in front of Bruce. 

Bruce grimaces behind his paper and mutters, “I think we just did.”


End file.
